Frostburn
by Fairly Odd New Yorker
Summary: (title to change) Bernard and Jack Frost's friendship, possibly into something more. Slow burn. Or at least trying. Please read and review, even if it's not your thing. Also posted on Archive of Our Own.
1. Chapter 1

Bernard had been Head Elf for a thousand years. He had earned the position from Heinrich, the Head Elf before him, who had trained him to be his successor for one hundred years before he retired from his post.

Bernard was the eldest out of all the elves in Elfburg. He had surpassed even his predecessor, his predecessor's predecessor, and all predecessors before him. Not a single elf ever stayed at the North Pole past eighteen hundred years of age. Most retired once they'd reached thirteen hundred, sometimes even at just a thousand. Bernard had just turned two thousand and had no plans to retire anytime soon.

His body, however, had other plans.

Despite his age, he looked like a young man in his twenties. What he wouldn't give to feel like one.

Mainly, it was his joints. The cold climate of the North Pole made his arthritis act up, causing him to walk with a limp that he often tried to hide by keeping an even pace. On particularly bad days, he'd tie a hot water bottle to whichever limb was particularly hurting him. Lucky for him, it stayed well hidden under his baggy red velvet costume.

At times, it was his eyes. He was grateful that, because of his seniority, he had to only oversee the toy-making process. He found that if it wasn't his bones, it was his eyesight that made it difficult to do pretty much anything. He uncovered an old pair of reading glasses that one of the Santas must have left behind, and although they weren't his prescription, they worked well enough. He only used them in private when it was absolutely necessary. His refusal to use them in public, however, left him with plenty of migraines, and only added to his overall irritable attitude.

But more than anything, he didn't suffer so much from physical stress as he did from emotional stress. Most of that came from the current Santa, who never visited the North Pole except within a week of Christmas Day, and sometimes, he wouldn't show up until Christmas Eve. This caused all of the work of getting ready for Christmas to fall on Bernard. Lists would go unchecked, if not for Bernard. Reindeer would go uncared for, if not for Bernard. Presents would go unwrapped, if not for Bernard.

Of course, it wasn't just Bernard who was stuck with all the work; it was the elves as well. But the leading, the organizing, the care that went into getting ready for the big day, that all fell on Bernard. And emotionally, it killed him more than it did physically. He was starting to resent his job and it troubled him because, despite his overall moody attitude he carried with him since he was appointed the Head Elf position, he loved his job. He loved what he did. And he was determined not to retire. Not now, not ever.

And to top it all off, this current Santa was number one hundred and twenty-nine. That meant the next Santa would be number one hundred and thirty. Thirteen was a bad luck number all on its own, but times ten? And if this Santa wasn't even a bad luck number, he could only imagine how bad the next one would be …

And then it happened.

He got the alert, one Christmas Eve in 1994.

Santa had fallen off of the roof, and a man had put on his suit. That's all he had gotten from the fax the sleigh had sent. Only time would tell how horrid this one would be, but according to a later fax, he was continuing Santa's route to deliver toys, so … there was that.

He couldn't bring himself to tell the elves yet. He needed to talk to someone first, a neutral party. He thought of consulting the Council of Legendaries, but he felt inferior asking for an audience with such esteemed idols. He never even addressed them at all the meetings he'd attended with the Santas over the years … in fact, the only one who had ever spoken to him, the only one he had ever dared approach was …

"Jack Frost." He breathed aloud, and bolted for the Hall of Snowglobes, to the secret entrance that held a special collection that summoned the other legendary figures.

In the room sat two cozy chairs atop a rug, flanking a steadily burning fireplace, and on top of the mantle sat the snow globes.

The snow globes had no names on them, but he could tell which ones they were just by looking at them - Mother Nature's (a beautiful golden snow globe with the four seasons represented and swirling together within) Time's (an old rustic-looking clock with a snow globe inside with numbers and sand floating around on the inside) the Easter Bunny's (an egg-shaped snow globe with flower petals and blades of grass) Sandman's (a snow globe which sat comfortably on a sculpted bed with 'z's floating inside) the Tooth Fairy's (a tooth shaped globe with wings, and gold coins inside of it) and Cupid's (a heart shaped globe with hearts inside, basically just hearts everywhere.)

But where was Jack's?

He looked along the mantle, scanning over them again, second-guessing that he might've missed it but he knew he couldn't have … and then he found it.

Discarded behind the chair.

It must've fallen somehow but it didn't shatter, thankfully.

Jack's snow globe was simple, a silver base with no adornments, and a simple crystal clear globe with snow whipping around inside.

Bernard cradled it carefully and placed it back on the mantle, peering into it.

He could see Jack Frost flitting about in some neighborhood, using his breath and his brush to create intricate designs on the windows as fresh snow fell on the ground around him.

Bernard watched him a while, entranced by the sprite. He had always found the young man to be so alluring, what with his blue hair and rosy cheeks, that impish grin, his contradicting warm eyes … he never understood why the Council more or less ignored him.

He recalled those many meetings (the ones they had remembered to invite Jack to, anyway) where Jack would timidly suggest that there was a small holiday to bring in the winter season. A holiday that might possibly honor him and the work he does every year to make the cold weather more beautiful and bearable despite the harsh and unforgiving cold. It was always brushed aside, arguing that Christmas did enough of that, and what with Halloween and Thanksgiving so close by, and then New Years, that time of year was crowded enough as it is. Jack would always relent, telling them that he understood completely, and yet he would always bring it up at least once every fifty years.

Bernard could recall the sadness that would always flood his eyes before he noticed the Head Elf watching him, and then Jack would beam with delight as if none of it ever bothered him.

But Bernard knew.

It took him about five hundred years into his Head Elf title, since he met the winter sprite, to finally gather up the courage to approach the man (despite how approachable he appeared). And even when he did, he was shaking all over, having felt so inferior to the Legendary figures. After all, what right did a mere elf have, asking to borrow time from ones so great as they? And yet, Jack did not seem to think so. In fact, he seemed grateful that Bernard would ever converse with him.

Bernard didn't address the obvious issues Jack had, not at first, anyway. He approached him with cheer, inviting him to have a cup of hot chocolate with him out on one of the balconies while the rest of the Legendary Council had so conveniently forgotten to ask Jack to join them for their private Christmas dinner.

Jack was shy at first, hiding his mouth behind his oversized scarf in-between sips of cocoa, but eventually, he warmed up to Bernard once the elf started talking about toy design, and brought up the craftsmanship that went into it and how he felt that it was dwindling over the years.

"Oh, you mustn't let the others dishearten you!" Jack had exclaimed, "It may seem monotonous at times, but it's important to take great care when it comes to things like that, if not for the children, then for yourself! For the good of the heart!"

His words came flooding back to him, and he felt sick to his stomach to realize he had pretty much succumbed to what he promised he wouldn't. Work had become monotonous, and he really didn't see the point in caring anymore.

He continued to watch Jack, biting his lip, unsure if he should disturb him in the middle of his work. It was only until Jack stopped, gripping on a window pane, and he looked up, almost directly into his eyes, as if he could feel Bernard watching him, that Bernard was spurred to make a move.

With a breath, he grasped the globe and gave it a gentle shake.

A gentle gust of wind swept into the room, and Bernard turned to see Jack standing there, his back to him. He brushed some snow off of his sweater as he looked around the room, but did not turn around.

"Santa?" he called out, and it broke Bernard's heart to hear the hopefulness in his voice. Bernard couldn't recall a time when any Santa ever summoned Jack Frost.

"No, it's just me …"

Jack whipped around, his eyes flashing dangerously for a split second as if he didn't recognize him, but then he smiled, that warm smile that contradicted everything he stood for. His hair hung like soft fuzzy icicles beneath his blue hat, his skin pink and flushed from the cold like always. He wore an oversized silvery blue sweater that looked rather staticky and a long white scarf that he must've wrapped around his neck at least three times.

"Bernard!" he exclaimed with a breath of relief, but his smile soon faded when he saw Bernard's look of distress, "What's wrong?"

"Santa fell off a roof," he explained, just a little too casually.

"Oh no. Again? Well …" Jack shrugged, "First time for this one, but still … are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"Fine, fine, just … this next one, he'll be number one hundred and thirty."

Jack looked confused, and Bernard rolled his eyes.

"One three zero. Thirteen? Bad luck number?"

Jack still looked confused, and Bernard sighed, waving his hand.

"Forget it, I'm sorry I called you, it's stupid."

"No, don't be sorry!" Jack insisted, gripping the elf by the shoulders, and he could feel his cool touch even under layers of clothing, but it was not the bitter cold that he was used to at the Pole. It was a pleasant, refreshing sort of cold, the kind of feeling when you've been stuffed up in an overheated room and you step out into the fresh air.

"If it bothers you, then it matters. Don't ever apologize for your feelings. Why … why does it bother you, anyway?"

"This last Santa, he was just … he was such a flake. I wound up doing most of the work. If he wasn't even a bad luck number, imagine how bad this next one will be!"

"This new guy … is he continuing the route? Are the children getting their presents?"

"Yes, but …"

"No buts, then. You have no reason to worry, not yet. It could be worse. He could've just thrown away the suit and gone back to bed. Try looking on the bright side, I know it's hard at times, but you have to try …"

Bernard forced a smile, which faded almost instantly, "How are you so positive?"

Jack Frost shrugged with a smile, "I'm immortal. I have to be if I have to live forever."

"I mean … after all, the way the Council treats you …"

Jack's smile faded, and he released the elf's shoulders, suddenly uncomfortable as he patted down his sweater, searching for his brush, "I … I really should get back to work."

"Jack …"

"It's fine, really," he assured with a forced smile, "You can't control what others think of you, you can only control how you perceive it. If I say it's fine, it'll be fine."

"Really?" Bernard asked, unconvinced.

Jack nodded firmly, grinning, as he tapped Bernard playfully on the nose with his brush, sending a pleasant chill down the elf's spine.

"Don't worry about me, okay? And take care of yourself. Show the new Santa the ropes. Be confident. I have faith in you."

Bernard smiled, genuinely this time, and did something impulsively that he would never have dared to do had he not been so stressed out.

He hugged the winter sprite.

And despite Jack's upbeat behavior, he tensed at the touch, taken aback by the gesture, but he soon relaxed, his gloved hand patting him awkwardly before resting in the middle of his back.

"Thank you, Jack …"

Bernard could feel him smile against his hat, "Anytime."

It bothered Bernard that he didn't want to let go of the man, but he knew he had to, they both had jobs to do, and he stepped away reluctantly, clearing his throat, "I should, uh, guess I should let you get back to work."

Jack nodded, "I guess so … but don't be afraid to call me … Bernard," he reminded, "No matter how stupid you think the reason is."

Bernard laughed, feeling a blush creep up under his scarf, "Yeah, sure … will do …"

Jack offered a shy smile, and Bernard could swear he was blushing too, but it might have just been his usual flush from the cold.

"I'll spy on him a bit if you'd like. A-and I'll let you know what I think … if you'd … like."

"I'd like that," Bernard replied, grinning ear to ear, "Thanks again."

Jack smiled back, and he disappeared into thin air, wind rushing around him, circling him before dissipating.

Bernard finally released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and he glanced over at the fax that continued to pour through. They were heading to New Zealand now. It was only a matter of time before they reached the North Pole.

"Time to tell the elves," he sighed to himself and stepped out of the Hall and onto the factory floor.


	2. Chapter 2

"I hope you're not too overwhelmed," Bernard said as he closed the office doors and walked beside Scott Calvin, the new Santa Clause, down the hallway towards the courtyard, "That was quite a lot to take in, especially after delivering."

"Yeah," Scott agreed with a laugh, "It was, but I'm kinda getting used to it at this point."

"It's customary that they meet the new Santa after he's completed his first full Christmas Eve run." Bernard explained, "If they approached you when you got the job, well …"

"I'd have probably checked myself into an insane asylum," Scott finished.

Bernard laughed, "Yeah. Probably."

"Who was that little guy again? The one all dressed in blue?"

Bernard could feel his heart skip a beat at the reference to his only true friend. Which probably wasn't saying much, having only spoken to him for about a quarter of his life, during which he rarely got to see him.

"Jack Frost," he said, and glanced around, half expecting the man to show up. He wasn't too paranoid to think so - he hadn't seen Jack leave when the other Legendaries dispersed, and Jack had usually hung around after meetings to walk around the Pole, admiring his handiwork and chatting up Bernard.

"Of course! Jack Frost!" Scott replied, snapping his fingers, "What's his deal? Why didn't the Council involve him?"

"Well, part of it is he doesn't involve himself, but when he tries, they shut him out."

"Yeah, I could see that. He didn't even have a nameplate at the table, that's why his name escaped me."

"He plays an intricate part in the holiday season." Bernard insisted enthusiastically, "He's responsible for all the snow and the ice. Without him, we wouldn't have a white Christmas."

"Then why doesn't the Council give him any recognition?"

"He heralds a season. He doesn't have his own holiday."

"But neither does Sandman. Or the Tooth Fairy."

Bernard shrugged, "It's the Council of Legendary Figures. Don't look for logic."

"But he's immortal just like the rest of them. Why don't they include him?"

"They consider him to be just a sprite, but he's much more than that, I assure you. I mean, he can be mischievous, but all in good fun. Comes with the territory. He would never cause anyone harm." Bernard assured quickly, "Total sweetheart."

'Total sweetheart?' Where did that come from? He shook his head in annoyance, trying to focus on not blushing.

They stopped right before the threshold that led out into the main courtyard, and Scott played with his beard as he thought up a solution.

"Why doesn't he help me with the holiday season? Directly?"

"It's against the Council's regulations. And besides, no Santa has ever cared to suggest it."

"How long have you known him?"

"Oh … my whole life. I mean, I've always seen him around, and when I became Head Elf, we got to talking. He … he's the most approachable, honestly. I was always too intimidated to ask anyone else for their time."

"Well I would like to commission a nameplate for him," Scott declared, "I'm Santa now, I can change that, can't I? I'm on the Council."

"Of course," Bernard replied with a broad grin, "That sounds like a good start."

"I'll propose something to the Council at the next meeting," Scott said, "But you can help me figure out the details, what to say … right now, I promised Curtis I'd meet up with him. He's got a new plan for the toy-making process."

Bernard rolled his eyes. That little be-speckled elf was always trying to grab Santa's attention, and now that this one was actually interested in his job, he'd been jumping at any chance to impress him. Bernard couldn't blame him, it had been a rather dreary hundred or so years with the last Santa. Any other time, he might've been annoyed for stealing Scott, but Bernard was feeling tired after all the last minute rushing they had to do and was looking forward to taking an actual break.

"I'll catch up with you later then," Bernard promised with a wave as Scott headed towards Curtis's private workshop.

"You didn't have to do that!"

Bernard jumped out of his skin and came face to face with Jack Frost, whose blue eyes were wild with fear himself, his skin paled with dread.

"Christmas crackers!" Bernard gasped, clutching his chest, "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," Jack apologized quickly, looking ashamed, "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Why'd you tell him to get me a nameplate?"

"I didn't! Scott decided it on his own."

"You baited him," Jack accused, poking him insistently in the chest, "You tricked him into saying it. What if the Council shuns him too, now?"

"They're not gonna shun Santa Clause," Bernard replied incredulously, swatting him away as he turned on his heel to head back towards the factory.

Jack followed, nearly running alongside him to keep up with his strides.

"Did you really mean what you said?"

"Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?" he reminded, shaking his head, "I want this new Santa to like you. And you did do such a great job of that," he added sarcastically, "hiding in the corner of the room all throughout the meeting."

"So … you just said those nice things to get him to like me?" Jack asked, a tinge of hurt in his tone, and Bernard had to avoid looking at him as he walked, focusing on his feet instead, "You didn't mean any of it?"

"Jack, I …" Bernard stopped in his steps with an irritated huff, "I meant it, okay? Now can I please get started on next Christmas?"

"But you just finished this Christmas!" Jack whined, "Please?"

Bernard huffed, throwing up his hands, "Okay, meet me up on our balcony, in ten minutes, okay? I have some matters I need to tend to first."

Jack beamed with delight and gave Bernard a quick hug in thanks before hurrying off.

Bernard fought back a smile, determined to stay annoyed with the sprite, for he was still ticked that Jack was listening in on their conversation. It was hard to stay mad at him, though. He was much like a child, although he looked at least ten or fifteen years his senior. Bernard watched as he practically skipped up the staircase towards the top floor, his long white scarf trailing behind him, absolutely giddy at the prospect of getting to spend time with Santa's Head Elf.

Total sweetheart.

Well, it was true.

"And fetch some cocoa!" Bernard shouted after him, before turning on his good heel and heading off.

* * *

"So I was right about him, wasn't I?"

"Yes, yes, you were right," Bernard droned for the fifth time that year, "I was wrong. Don't rub it in. I don't ever admit such things to anyone."

Jack smiled into his cocoa, looking out over the brightly lit courtyard, "I had a good feeling about him from the start. He seemed so unhappy with his job, with his life. This Santa gig, it gave him new life. It gave him a reason."

Bernard half-laughed, "What I wouldn't give for one."

Jack looked over at the Head Elf in concern as Bernard stared off into the night sky, sipping his cocoa.

"Well, you're his Head Elf. Numero uno! That's quite a purpose, I must say …"

"I'm getting old, Jack. I was supposed to retire ages ago."

"Well, why didn't you?"

Bernard shrugged, "What's my purpose, outside of this? It's not like I can apply to be an elf at another North Pole."

"You could always be my elf."

Bernard's heart pounded madly in his chest, but he held his composure, pretending not to hear that. He knew Jack had no idea what that could mean to Bernard. Jack was far too innocent. Be my elf. He was only being kind.

But Jack continued.

"So … did you really mean what you said?"

"Which part?" Bernard asked casually, crossing his bad knee over his good one as they laid there, reclined on upholstered lawn chairs, watching the stars.

"That I'm important to the season?"

Bernard nodded, feeling himself blush as he smiled awkwardly, looking over at him, "Well, you are. Come on, now. You basically set the mood for the season."

"I-Is it a good mood?" Jack asked softly, tentatively.

Bernard's gaze dropped, and he turned back towards the sky.

"When you're in a good mood," Bernard said pointedly, "Yes, it can be."

"And what's that like?"

"You don't notice the difference? It's your mood."

"It's hard to tell from the inside looking out. Please? Tell me. What's it like?"

Bernard sighed, holding his mug firmly against his chest.

"It's like … it's … warm. But cold at the same time. The sun shines, but it doesn't melt the snow. It makes it sparkle. The daylight hours seem longer, even though it's not possible, being winter. It's bearable to be outside without any extra gear. It's … pleasant. I can tell you're happy, even if you're not here."

Jack smiled, his pink face turning a beet red as he snuggled into his scarf.

But his smile soon faded.

"And … and when I'm in a bad mood?"

Jack couldn't bring himself to meet Bernard's eyes as Bernard watched him, brow furrowed in concern.

"I can always tell when you're upset. It's the bitter cold. The winds are harsh and cuts at my skin … it's unbearable."

He didn't elaborate further, for Jack appeared uncomfortable to hear this.

"But then … I've never seen you in a bad mood."

"You don't want to bear witness to that," Jack assured with a humorless laugh.

"Come on. I call on you when I'm stressed and need a second opinion." Bernard reminded, shrugging his shoulders, "Don't be afraid to come to me."

Jack adjusted his scarf in a vain attempt to hide, holding his cup of cocoa close.

"Jack? Are you listening?"

Jack glanced over, nodding quickly as he took a sip of his drink.

"Aren't we friends?"

Bernard could feel his heart break as he asked this, and the look in Jack's eyes seemed to confirm his worst fear.

"I'm sorry," Bernard apologized quickly, "I get it. I mean, you're Legendary. I'm just an elf."

"You are not just an elf!" Jack scoffed, sitting up in his seat, facing him, "You're everything! Why do you think I show up, year after year, only to get treated like garbage by the Council?"

"Because if you didn't attend they'd probably boot you out?" Bernard asked monotonously, staring up at the sky.

"Because I like you, Bernard," Jack admitted, "I wouldn't be here, if not for you."

"Then why don't you trust me?" Bernard asked accusingly as he sat up, wincing in pain as his bad knee collided with the side of the balcony. Instinctively, he rubbed it in a vain attempt to numb the pain and found Jack watching him.

"Do you trust me?" the sprite breathed, eying his knee, "I could … I could make it better … if you trust me."

Bernard watched him through his dark curls, eyes wide as saucers as he gripped the edge of his seat. He shook his head, shrugging carelessly.

"It's … fine." Bernard said, echoing Jack's favorite adverb when referring to his situation with the Council, "I only knocked it."

"I know you tie a hot water bottle to it."

"I live at the North Pole. It's a common thing to do."

"Bernard-"

"Jack!" the Head Elf snapped, his gaze darkening, but it soon softened when he met the sprite's hurt eyes, "I'm fine. Just drop it, okay?"

An awkward silence fell between them, and it felt like an eternity before Jack finally spoke up.

"You ask if we're friends, and then you don't trust me?"

"It's not that I don't trust you. My leg's fine. See?" he proved it by standing up, his eyes flickering slightly as pain shot up through to his spine.

Jack glared up at him in disbelief, and in that gaze, Bernard saw a glimpse of that bad mood he thought he was missing out on.

"Why are you lying?" Jack seethed.

"Look who's talking!" Bernard exclaimed with a laugh.

"Excuse me?"

"You lie about the Council all the time, to the Council." Bernard admitted finally, throwing his hands up, "You always say it's 'fine', well, you know what, it's not fine. It's not fine to let people treat you like garbage all because you want to meet up with some lowly elf to- to make small talk and pretend like everything in your life is fine when clearly, it's not!"

"So you were lying to Scott …"

"I already told you, I wasn't."

"You said I was a sweetheart," Jack reminded quietly, and Bernard could feel his pointed ears grow hot, and he looked away.

"You're not a lowly elf," Jack said, "I've said it before and I'll say it again."

Jack stood, and Bernard tensed, trying to hide his tears behind his thick curls.

"I come back because I like you, Bernard. I like you a lot."

Bernard squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head lightly, but no words would come out, only a shaky breath escaped his lips.

He felt Jack's cool skin as he carefully gathered his fingers in his hand, and he could feel the underlying warmth to his touch. The warmth spread through his body, and the pain in his knee ebbed away. He could've sworn Jack was using his magic, but there was no indication of it, no usual swirl of snowflakes or anything.

Trembling, Bernard opened his eyes to see Jack standing there with his usual sympathetic gaze, and he could tell that he too was terrified.

Scared as he was, Bernard moved closer, and carefully reached up to touch Jack's face … when …

A sharp whistle broke through the night and tore them apart.

"Bernard!" called Curtis excitedly from the courtyard below, "Come down! You gotta see this!"

Bernard took deep gulps of breath, worn out from having been startled twice in one night. He rolled his eyes as he inwardly cursed Curtis, looking to Jack, who had turned from him, rewrapping his scarf.

"I don't hate you," Bernard offered weakly, "If … if that's what you're thinking."

Jack looked up, his face flushed from their almost … kiss? If that's what it almost was …

"I just wish you'd stand up for yourself, once in a while."

Jack smiled vaguely, "I could say the same to you."

Bernard frowned, ignited again, "What do you mean?"

Jack sighed, "I don't want to fight. You're lucky to have Scott as Santa now. At least now, you won't have to carry the entire weight of Christmas on your shoulders. You deserve some much-needed rest."

Jack approached Bernard with a grim smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder and gripping him comfortingly, "Take care of yourself."

Bernard found himself reaching for him as he passed. He wanted to stop him. He wanted to ask what just happened, moments ago. But he couldn't find his voice, that was until Jack made to leave.

"You'll come back," Bernard said hopefully, "Won't you?"

Jack turned around, forcing a smile, "Of course. I always do."

Bernard could tell that he was troubled and confused by all that just happened, so he let it be, watching as Jack disappeared in a wisp of cold air, snowflakes flurrying over his head as he left.

"I think I love you …" Bernard murmured to himself, frowning. He kicked at a pile of snow before shuffling off to see what Curtis wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

The next meeting was held on New Year's Eve.

Bernard wanted to see Jack again more than anything, but he still felt uncomfortable about how they left off. So he lied to Scott, saying that the Head Elf never attended the New Year's Eve meeting, and Scott, not knowing any better, accepted this lame explanation.

But Scott was still new to the Santa position, and nervous about being with the Legendaries without Bernard, so he punished his Head Elf, in a way.

Scott was intrigued by Curtis's new invention to better produce some of the more complicated toys, and so he appointed Curtis as second-in-command, in training. Scott wouldn't be so cruel as to make Bernard start training him on a holiday of all days, but he did insist that Bernard let Curtis hang out with him for the night, in an attempt for them to get to know each other a little better.

All Bernard wanted to do was toss him down a trash chute.

"Do you think if the reindeer stopped galloping, they'd fall out of the sky?"

"Curtis …"

"Or are they like birds, can they glide for a little?"

"Curtis?"

"They must get so tired, I can't imagine flying around all night, lugging Santa and a heavy sleigh —"

"Curtis!"

The little bespeckled elf jumped out of his skin, looking wide-eyed up at the tallest elf that ever existed at the Pole.

Bernard stared down at him from under his curtain of curls, fists clenched at his sides. He sighed in annoyance, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he waved his hands.

"Look, can you just … stop with the questions already? It's late, and I'm still tired from Christmas Eve …"

"But it's been almost a week since …"

Bernard cut him a look.

"Yeah, and I'm two thousand years old, don't judge."

"Well, can't I ask about Head Elf duties then?"

"Curtis, I have at least a hundred years to train you —"

"No you don't," Curtis argued, nose scrunched up in confusion, "Santa said it's only ten years."

Bernard's stomach plummeted, and he laughed nervously, "No, that's impossible. Heinrich trained me for a hundred years before he retired …"

Curtis raised a brow and shrugged, "I don't know. That's what Santa told me."

Bernard's head was spinning. No doubt he knew that he would be needing to retire soon, but this soon? He wasn't prepared. Ten years was like a year to an elf. His days were literally numbered. How could Santa let him stay beyond his retirement? What was he if he wasn't Head Elf?

"Are you okay?" Curtis asked, "You look like you ate too many cookies."

"I'm fine, Curtis, now can you please … just give me some space? We'll … we'll reconvene in the morning, okay buddy?"

He ruffled the little elf's hair as he left him standing alone in the middle of the stables.

* * *

Bernard found himself heading towards Santa's office, where the meeting was currently being held, and he had to backtrack.

Most of the elves were on the first floor, so he stayed on the second floor. He chose a space along the railing where he could see the doors, but not close enough so that he would be seen when they emerged.

He didn't understand why he was waiting, or maybe he just didn't want to. But then the reason presented itself with a familiar pleasant chill that danced around his feet.

"Thank you for the name plate."

Bernard smiled to himself as Jack stepped beside him, leaning on the railing with his chin in his hands.

"Well, you knew about it beforehand," Bernard excused, "Not much of a surprise."

"It was, to the Council, anyway," Jack remarked with a shrug, his cheek in his one palm as he looked over at Bernard, "They didn't seem too pleased …"

"Hey, forget them, okay?" Bernard shrugged off, nudging him lightly in the shin with his elbow, "You deserve recognition. Even the slightest bit."

Jack nodded unconvincingly, nervously chewing on his lip.

"So …" he laughed forcedly, "I came back."

"I'm glad you did."

Jack smiled to himself, looking away.

"So why didn't you come to the meeting?"

Bernard shrugged in response, and decided to change the subject.

"Listen, that night on the balcony … did you use magic?"

"You told me not to."

"Right, but did you?"

"Bernard, I wouldn't use magic on you without your permission."

"Well, the pain went away."

"I thought it was just a minor bump? That's to be expected."

Bernard felt foolish all of the sudden, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

The doors to Santa's office opened and the rest of the Council emerged with Scott, to join the rest of the party downstairs.

Bernard couldn't help but notice that Jack had slowly inched away from him, ducking further into his scarf in a pathetic attempt to hide. Eventually, he gave up and ducked behind the railings.

Bernard knelt down with him.

"Why did you leave the meeting early?"

"I felt like it. They didn't seem to notice. You know how it is, I'm … invisible. No one sees me."

"I see you."

Jack met his eyes and looked away, blushing intensely.

"In all honesty," Jack admitted, "it's not worth attending one without you there."

Bernard could feel his neck grow hot, and he gripped the railing, resting his forehead against his arm as he stared at the back of Jack's head.

Bernard licked his lips nervously, "So uh … are …are we still friends then?"

"Of course we are!" Jack exclaimed, turning around, "Don't ever doubt that for a second!"

Bernard smiled, but it soon faded as he gazed at the factory down below, "We better move," he suggested, "they'll see you, if they haven't already."

"They don't care," Jack assured, still watching them.

Bernard gripped his sleeve, pulling him along as he crawled across the floor on his hands and knees towards one of the closets, "Come with me anyway, come on."

Jack giggled at how ridiculous Bernard looked, and he followed, Bernard shushing him in-between his own laughter.

Jack went to shut the closet behind him, and Bernard, in the middle of his laughter, cried out in a hush, grabbing his arm.

"No, don't! They'll suspect something if you shut it."

"Suspect what?"

"I don't know. _Something_. You know how elves gossip."

"But we always run off together. Why is this any different?"

Bernard laughed nervously, shaking his head, but he didn't answer. He couldn't stop thinking about their near-kiss, and he wasn't up to addressing it just yet.

"I have a feeling they'll suspect something no matter what," Jack pointed out, "Does anyone hang out with you even half as much as I do?"

"No one hangs out with me," Bernard admitted, "I'm on a higher level, it could be misconstrued as favoritism. I only hang out with Quintin from R&D sometimes, but that's only when he needs my approval."

Bernard leaned his head back against the cabinet, looking over at Jack, "Do you have any other friends?"

"No one. It's only you."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Why's that?"

Bernard shrugged, "You're so kind and positive. You're … you're caring, a-and …"

"A sweetheart?" Jack finished with a teasing grin, referring to how Bernard described him to Santa.

Bernard laughed, his ears burning from embarrassment, but his laughs soon died down when he noticed Jack watching him intensely, his eyes glancing at his lips.

They heard voices as elves approached, and Jack's confidence disappeared suddenly as he shrank back further into the darkness. With an annoyed huff, Bernard crawled forward, casually swinging the door closed and locking it for good measure. They were both cloaked in darkness, save for the light that poured in from under the door.

"I thought you said they'd suspect something."

"They will, no matter what. Like you said."

Bernard crawled back over to his spot with a grunt, "Guess we're stuck in here for a while, huh?"

"Looks like it," Jack agreed, crawling back over to his side. His hand found his in the darkness, and he jumped at the contact, apologizing profusely.

Bernard reached for him, finding his hand and gripping it comfortingly, like it was no big deal.

"What do you like about me?" Bernard asked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he could see Jack shrugging into his scarf.

"That you spoke to me first," he admitted in a mumble, "I would've never found the courage to … I mean, we've always exchanged looks before that, but I was afraid, since I'm Legendary, I'd be out of line to talk to you …"

"I was the one out of line," Bernard said with a sigh, "But that was messed up, what they did to you …"

Jack sank down against the cabinet, and rested his head against Bernard's shoulder, propping his elbow up and lifting their joined hands between them, watching them in the darkness as he gently rubbed the top of his hand with his thumb. Bernard stared too, amazed that he could see the difference in skin tone even in the darkness. He rested his head against Jack's, snuggling closer.

"You found me in this closet, I believe."

Bernard looked around, but of course he couldn't tell in the darkness.

"You were lost," Bernard remembered, "you knew there was a dinner but you couldn't figure out where. Santa, the previous one, was supposed to send you an invite, but he conveniently forgot. I offered to take you to it, but you refused. And that's when I invited you to have hot cocoa with me."

"I was crying, you know, when you found me …"

Even though Bernard had suspected it at the time, it still broke his heart to hear Jack admit it.

"You told me you weren't."

"I was ashamed. I didn't want you to think I was weak."

"I never thought that," Bernard insisted gently, "I would never think it. Not for a second."

Jack released his hand as he turned toward him, resting his clenched hand against Bernard's chest as he snuggled against him, clearly making himself comfortable. Bernard wrapped his arm around him, pulling him closer, as if that were possible.

"Can we just stay like this forever?"

Bernard gripped Jack's hand with his right one, across his chest. His head was buzzing and his stomach was churning pleasantly, but he felt comfortable and at ease with such close contact. He'd never felt this way before, about anyone.

But he didn't want to answer that question truthfully. Because he knew the cold hard truth to it, but he didn't want to say. He didn't want to think what might become of them in the future. He just wanted to live in the here and now.

"Yeah," was all he could muster, tucking the sprite's head under his chin.

Jack breathed contently with a smile, which slowly faded.

"You never answered me earlier," he remembered, sitting up, removing himself from his arms as he looked directly into the Head Elf's eyes.

"Why didn't you attend the meeting?"

Bernard stared back like a deer in headlights, and shook his curls, "I was … just scared, I guess …"

"Of me?" Jack asked, hurt evident in his voice as he searched his eyes for an answer.

"Of us," Bernard admitted seriously, taking both his hands in his, his brown eyes never leaving the sprite's worried blues, "Of … of what might have happened, of what almost happened … between us … Jack … I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't," Jack assured softly.

"You can't promise that, don't you see?" Bernard replied, gripping his hands tighter, insistently, with a light shake, "If the Council suspects—"

A loud knocking resounded at the door and the pair jumped at the sound. Hushed whispers collected by the door, along with shadows of feet, followed by giggles and suggestions of "Is someone in there?"

A wisp of snowflakes surrounded the both of them, and the next thing Bernard knew, they were both standing atop a balcony.

Their balcony.

"Sorry," Jack quickly apologized, releasing Bernard, "I panicked."

Bernard didn't know what came over him. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush of almost getting caught, or the thought of having to retire, of losing Jack forever … maybe it was everything.

He didn't care. He wasn't thinking.

In that moment, it felt right, and that's all that mattered.

He took a chance, and gently cupped Jack's face in his hands, kissing him softly on his pale lips. Contrary to his nature, he felt hot against his mouth, and he could taste just a hint of peppermint.

Jack tensed up in surprise, initially, but quickly relaxed into the elf's touch. When Jack did not kiss back, however, Bernard broke it off, watching his eyes in fear. Jack looked dazed from the kiss, and once his eyes focused, he looked back at Bernard with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't … Jack, I—"

But Jack just grabbed the front of Bernard's shirt, kissing him deeply.

It was a while before they broke it off this time, practically gasping for air. Jack shook his head with a smile as he took generous breaths, "You don't know … how long I … I …"

Bernard kissed the side of his mouth, smiling against him before enveloping him in a hug.

The bells rang out for the new year, and they pulled away, still in each other's arms as they looked towards the skies. Fireworks went off over the glass dome ceiling of the factory, lighting the night in silver, gold and blue sparks.

Bernard turned to look at Jack, whose eyes were brimming with tears as he watched the display. He could see the fireworks going off in the reflection of his eyes.

"Happy new year," Bernard murmured, reaching up to brush away a tear that had fallen from the sprite's eyes.

Jack looked at him, his mouth curling into a warm smile before planting another kiss upon the elf's lips, and burying his face into his neck.

Bernard squeezed his eyes shut, holding Jack close, trying to remember every second of this moment so that he could hold it in his heart forever.

Still, he kept on his guard, opening his eyes to watch the courtyard below for any possible prying eyes, but all had gone inside the factory where it was nice and warm.

Bernard had almost forgotten they were outdoors, for Jack felt warmer than any fireplace he'd ever sat in front of.

Eventually, the noise died down, and they reluctantly pried themselves away from each other.

"I should head back …" Bernard realized, "They'll wonder where I am."

Jack nodded, brushing Bernard's curls from his eyes, "Go. I'll hang back."

Bernard smiled grimly, knowing that they would have to keep this a secret from everyone, and it killed him. He turned to leave, his feet feeling like they were strapped to blocks of lead.

"I-If you call, I'll … I'll come to you," Jack said shyly, and Bernard looked back at him, "Just say my name, out loud, and I'll be there."

Bernard smiled sadly, and stepped back over to the winter sprite, capturing his lips in another heated kiss.

"I'll call," Bernard promised, gripping his hand tight, stepping away from the Legendary figure, his fingers not letting go until the last possible second. To save any more heartbreak, he jogged back to the factory, not looking back.


End file.
